Harry Potter
by BloodyPenhand
Summary: Harry still can't get over the fact that Sirius is gone he gets the absurd idea of asking Hermione for her Time Turner from third year... [Completed.]
1. Letters

Harry lay down on his bed and he stared at the ceiling, thinking. Mixed emotions swelled through him, each deeper and more complex than the last. He was asking himself the questions that he had not asked any other person and he found his answers to be blurry and unsure. He was attempting to convince himself with solid evidence, not just emotion and beliefs, that there was a hope that his Godfather Sirius Black still lived. But he was just going in circles like he had all summer—he had no real proof to convince himself with. From his right his thoughts were disturbed as a scratching sound came from his window. He looked up to see Hedwig unsuccessfully attempting to claw the window open from the outside. He opened up the window and she reproachfully screeched at him then unceremoniously dropped a letter onto his head. He couldn't remember ever seeing this writing before—it wasn't Hagrid's messy scrawl, Hermione's tiny neat handwriting, Ron's messy print, or—He stopped. _Or like Sirius's._ He began reading the letter written upon the parchment.

_Harry,_

_I know that you do not by any means want to listen to me right now. I fully understand that you would tear up this letter and throw the remains in the fire because I am going to tell you about a matter you do not want to hear. _

_I also know how difficult it must be for you to lose Sirius._

Harry paused reading at the name. He didn't want to read the rest of the letter, just as the writer had said he wouldn't. No one could understand what it was like for him to lose Sirius and no one had the right to talk to him about it. No one knew how painful it was when someone said that he was dead—after all, he couldn't be. No one understood fully the pain that seared his heart whenever the name was brought up. No one knew the abyss that had opened when he'd lost Sirius. No one. He managed to—barely—focus his gaze onto the parchment and he continued to read.

_I terribly miss him as well. But, Harry, do not believe that this isn't so. I knew him longer than you did_

Harry bitterly laughed. Hagrid had said the same thing to try to comfort him—the words meant nothing to him. No one had cared as much about Sirius as he had.

_and I cared about him nearly as much as you do. I went to school with him; don't you remember me telling you that? But you have to know some things and have someone to talk to about his disappearance and listen to another. Sirius was a very good friend of mine, Harry. I will not tell you that he would be satisfied with how everything turned out—because he wouldn't. For one thing, he would definitely not have wanted to lose to Bellatrix, his cousin. He would not have wanted to been kept tight in his house for so long, the very one he'd grown up in. And, mostly, he would not have been satisfied with how he's separated from you. I know that this probably isn't helping—but there was—and still is—nothing you can do to change the events of everything._

_Just know, Harry, that you are not alone in this world nor in this raging war. Your friends will always be there for you, and, I shall as well._

_We have both lost the same people who had much importance in our lives. We've both lost different people as well—as have many of your friends. Your parents and Sirius were all wonderful friends of mine. There were hundreds of times we were together and laughed. You hardly knew your parents and you were only beginning to unravel Sirius. I knew them all like I would a brother, believe me, I have felt your pain. But they are all proud of you nonetheless. Neville's parents were tortured until they cracked—he's lost people too. Ron's brother, I believe his name is Percy, is no longer who he once was; he is now greedy for power such as the kind the Ministry can provide. Luna Lovegood lost her mother (you probably wonder how I know this, but I do and it doesn't matter why). Hagrid lost many as well. Dumbledore lost your parents, and Neville's among many more close friends. My point is that we've all tasted pain and something more terrible than death, at times. We would all come together and help you with your burden. We could all try to help each other a bit._

_Harry, Sirius may be gone, but you still have friends who will gladly help you bridge your gap, if you'd only let them. I'd like it if you could reply; if only to know you did not do as I suggested you might. It pains me as well to speak of Sirius but it has to be done if I'm to remain sane,_

_Lupin._

Harry read the letter a few times but he didn't know why. It was as if a small hope that someone genuinely did understand what he felt like. He had wanted someone to understand how much that it had hurt—but he still felt oddly isolated and alone. After all, it would all come down to him and Voldemort, wouldn't it? In the end it was down to them. "Neither can live while the other survives," wasn't that what Professor Trelawny had said? Dumbledore had confirmed that one would have to kill the other. A cold, sickening feeling came to his stomach as he wondered why his life would either include or end in murder. But Lupin was right; there were other people, people very close to him that had suffered losses. He wasn't alone. Then his thoughts came back to a conversation he had had with Luna before the Year-End Feast.

_"Anyway… why aren't you at the feast?"_

_Harry shrugged. "Just didn't feel like it."_

_"No," said Luna, observing him with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. "I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was you godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me."_

_Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius. He had just remembered that she, too, could see Thestrals._

_"Have you…" he began. "I mean, who… has anyone you known ever died?"_

_"Yes," Luna said simply, "my mother. She was quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."_

_"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled._

_"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And, anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"_

_"Er—isn't it?" said Harry uncertainly._

_She shook her head in disbelief._

_"Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?"_

_"You mean…"_

_"In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them."_

_They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Harry did not know what to say, or to think; Luna believed so many extraordinary things… yet he had been sure he had heard voices behind the veil too._

Did that mean that, seeing as how no one else had heard the whisperings besides Luna, Neville, and him, that only if you'd seen someone die you could hear beyond the archway? Was that who was whispering? Was he actually hearing the whisperings of Cedric and other people who had died? Did that mean that it was like a bridge between life and death? It was a way to get to those who had died… and it was a way for them to speak to the living? Was Sirius alive, walking among dead people trapped by the veil, or was he dead? If he were back at the archway would Harry be able to hear Sirius whispering? If he walked through the veil what would happen? Harry looked out of his window and sighed, knowing that he was getting more questions than answers.

It had only been four years ago that there had been bars on that window, and he'd awoken to see the red haired Weasley twins and Ron in a flying car. The next year he'd met Sirius and believed him to be the man responsible for his parents' deaths. How could he have ever doubted Sirius in the short time that he'd known him? At least he and Hermione had saved him in the end, with the help of her Time Turner—wait! If he could get his hands on a time turner and spin it enough times he could save Sirius… He could do something! Excitedly he jumped over to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill. Hurriedly he scrawled:

_Hermione,_

_Do you still have your Time Turner? If you do, could I borrow it?_

_Harry._

He then sent Hedwig off to deliver his message to Hermione.


	2. Reply

Impatiently Harry paced his floor until night, waiting for Hedwig to come with a reply.

"Harry! Dinner!" came the shriek of his aunt Petunia from the kitchen. Harry walked downstairs and sat at the table.

"So then, Dudders, when's your next boxing tournament?" Uncle Vernon asked his son, completely and determinedly ignoring Harry.

"Nexfft weurk," Dudley replied. He was too busy shovelling food into his mouth to actually swallow and speak clearly. Harry rolled his eyes and quickly finished eating so that he could go back upstairs. Just as he gulped down his last morsel there was a low swooping sound, aunt Petunia's scream, and uncle Vernon's yell of:

"Ruddy owl!"

Hedwig dropped a neatly folded parchment onto Harry's lap and flew up to his room again. Seeing the glowering faces of his Uncle and Aunt Harry dashed upstairs before they could say anything. He jumped onto his bed and with excitement opened up the parchment to see Hermione's tiny, neat handwriting.

_Harry,_

_I do still have the Time Turner. McGonagal was supposed to take it from me but never actually got the chance. By fourth year she forgot. _

_You want to meddle with time, don't you? Well, first read the rest of this letter. _

_Remember:_

**You must not be seen**_! Wizards that have meddled with time before have been seen by either their past self or other people, resulting in a dead future or past self. You cannot let this happen. You also must be back at the spot where you first meddled with time before time reaches that point. If not… Just get there in time, all right?_

_Whatever you do, don't do something stupid, and be careful!_

_P.S. Every turn you do goes back an hour into time. Calculate carefully what time you'll need and don't lose track of the turns!_

—_Hermione_

Harry shook the paper a little bit, hoping that she'd have given him the Time Turner. The tiny hourglass landed on his outstretched palm and he immediately sat down at his desk, pulling out parchment and quill.

"Let's see," he said to himself, "I'm three weeks into the summer holidays. Umm… Twenty-four hours in a day, multiply that by seven, that gives me one hundred sixty-eight hours. Multiply _that _by three… Five hundred four…" he paused in his calculations. Just where in time did he want to go to save Sirius? To tell himself that everything was all right, that Sirius wasn't with Voldemort? Did he want to go to the curtain to prevent Sirius from falling in? To Grimauld place to tell Sirius to stay? Or he could go to Grimauld place and strangle Kreature. Tempting.

He then remembered the third year experience with the Time Turner. He'd still be where he was now and he'd have to get to wherever he wanted. He could always fly on his firebolt with his invisibility cloak… Or wait the one-week until he'd get to go to number 12 Grimauld place. It was true that his aunt had his mother's blood in her veins, and while he was there Voldemort couldn't touch him, but he still hated it there and everyone knew it. So he was going to be at the Head Quarters for the Order of the Phoenix at least for a week. Besides, that place was probably next safest, seeing as there were so many enchantments and such. Then he could try the Time Turner to tell Sirius to stay… and strangle Kreature.


	3. Waiting

The week that Harry had to wait before he could get to number 12 Grimauld Place must have been the longest he could ever remember experiencing--even longer than the week of detentions with Delores Umbridge. Harry did everything that he could think of to pass the time, to urge it on. He would go to the park, he would read, he would polish his firebolt, he would pace the room up and down until his uncle yelled at him to stop, he even tried to find Dudley to scare out of his wits.

Nothing worked. Time still passed in its inexorable way, sluggish and at times it even seemed to stop.

Harry finally lay down on his bed with a plop, admitting defeat and letting time pass on its own. He closed his eyes and he intended to let sleep take over, but even _that _didn't work for him. He glanced over at the alarm clock, only to see that it had been ten minutes since he had last checked the time. He looked at his calendar, only to see that two days had passed since he'd last checked. There were only five more days until he was going to number 12 Grimauld Place. Suddenly an idea came to him and he jumped off of his bed, over to his desk.

He nearly upset his inkbottle as he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and he ruffled his quill in his haste to grab it. If nothing else would work, then he'd send a reply to Lupin, after all, Lupin had asked him to reply to his letter. He felt an old bond rekindling as his quill flew across the page, one that he'd left behind in his third year. It felt good to talk to his old Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor again, even if it was only a letter. He remembered with a shudder the Dementors and how Lupin had taught him the advanced spell, the Patronus, to repel them, since they brought back horrors from his past that few others had.

_Dear Lupin:_

_I got your letter, thanks. _

_Harry._

Harry glared at his short response before scribbling it out, trying again.

_Lupin,_

_I got your letter and it got me thinking properly again. Thanks for that. _

_I guess that I should talk to someone about him and the Dursley's aren't the most compatible people around. But I don't think that he's dead. At least--I don't want him to be. I don't really know anymore if that's what I think or if that's what I want. I know that I heard _something _behind that veil and I think it was people--dead people. _

_I was told once that I have a bond with Peter Pettigrew because I saved his life. I don't want to have anything to do with him though. He's the reason why my parents are dead. He doesn't seem like the kind of person to stand up and repay the debt. He already cut me, using my blood to bring back Voldemort--if he didn't let me go then will he ever?_

_Sirius was the one relation that I had, living, that I liked and I used to think that I'd get to go off and live with him, leaving the Dursley's behind. He wasn't even blood-wise related to me but I was closer to him then I'll ever be to the Dursley's. Mrs. Weasley seemed to think that he only cared about me so much because I look like my father. Is that true?_

_Sorry for bugging you with this reply. I guess I just wanted to tell someone all of that stuff. And I guess that I just wanted to ask some questions, hoping for answers… Thanks, Lupin. _

_Harry._

Harry supposed that it was good enough. He rolled it up and he gave it to Hedwig.

"Hey, girl." Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers, feeling the downy softness. "I need you to send another letter. To Lupin." He stroked her some more.

She cocked her head at him; her amber eyes looked at him, almost seeming to understand why he needed her to send so many letters. She seemed to nod before taking off with the letter.

He walked across the floor and his eyes reached the cat-flap, still installed in the door. He remembered the summer when he had nearly starved, after his uncle discovered that he was not allowed to perform magic outside of school. He shivered, remembering his wild thoughts of escape. His imagination didn't prove wild enough though because the Weasley's seemed to have thought up of something first. He still remembered the blue flying ford anglier, now wild in the school's forest.

A sharp pain suddenly went up his foot and he let out a little gasp, before lifting his foot up again to see what he had stepped on. It was a tiny shard of glass. Then he remembered how he'd thrown the two-way mirror against the wall in his frustration of having lost Sirius. His frustration that even this hadn't worked. His frustration that he hadn't just used this instead of Delores Umbridge's fire. He kicked it away from his foot, a small smear of blood appeared on the carpet, and he felt angry at how even the things in his bedroom seemed to be teaming up on him to make his life even more difficult after Sirius had die--disappeared. It was mostly under his desk, though, so it wasn't a real wonder as to why he hadn't stepped on it before. He shuddered, remembering how The Monster Book of Monsters had once scuttled under it, a thirteenth birthday present from the Hogwarts Game Keeper--Hagrid.

Surprisingly enough, with his head swirling with thoughts, the day passed with fair speed and Harry found himself, at last, marking off a day on his makeshift calendar. He quickly dressed in his pyjamas and he lay down under his covers in his bed, removed his glasses, and in next to no time he was yawning, rolling over, and falling fast asleep. The last thought that passed through his head was: _Four more days until Grimauld Place. _And with that, he clutched the time-turner even tighter in his hand.


	4. Leaving

I got a comment, saying that this story is going a bit slow. Sorry, but I mean for it to go like that. Hopefully these next few chapters will go at a faster pace, but I can only hope--and write.

I don't know if you bother to pay any attention to this, but, either way, I'd like to mention a wonderful author whose penname is: marauderprincess. I encourage you to read her works, as they are fascinating, well written, and she won't write more until she gets a LOT more reviews.Youcan find her under myFavourite Authors section.

Finally, I share a split-account with my friend and we'd really appreciate it if you could read and review our fics because it's a fairly new account and we don't have very many reviews. :( We're xMischiefManagedx and that's also under my Favourite Authors section.

* * *

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all of the stuff that you should recognize from the books; all else is mine.**

Harry groggily awoke and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes before looking over at his calendar and his clock. To his surprise and delight, this was the day. Today he was going to the head quarters of the Order of the Phoenix! Harry jumped up, energy pulsating through his veins. He nearly broke his glasses in his rush to put them on his nose and he was lucky to not rip any of his clothing in his haste to put them on. He was still clutching the time turner in his hand. He looked down at it.

The gold chain was beautiful and the glass seemed to shimmer different colours. It compelled him to turn it, to change time. He opened his palm wider and his other hand began to reach toward it, falling under the spell of the gold and the glass.

He quickly tore his gaze from it and he put it round his neck, shoving the tiny hourglass beneath his shirt so that no one would be able to see it. As he thought more and more about it he began to think of how risky his plan was. Sirius might not listen to him because he was so eager for a chance to leave the house. He might miscalculate when he was and he could miss Sirius entirely. Or he could be seen. But, if it did work, it was worth it. But how would the future, the present, change if Sirius lived? Harry hadn't thought about that. But he still wouldn't change his mind about the whole thing. What if Sirius was alive right now and he didn't want things to be different? He roughly shook his head, as if by doing so he might rid himself of these doubts.

_Of course I have to get him back, don't be stupid. _This thought gave him some level of comfort and he ceased to think about all that could go wrong. Absentmindedly, he realized that this plan probably had much more that could go wrong than the risky one Hermione had made in their second year with the Polyjuice Potion.

He walked over to his trunk only to see that it was hardly packed at all. He wondered why he hadn't packed it sooner, as it would have been a perfect way to pass the time.

A sickly mixture of excitement, the prospect of an adventure, nagging doubt, sadness, and anger at Kreature and Snape bubbled up within him. He knew that both Kreature and Snape had absolutely no sympathy whatsoever for Sirius's deat--disappearance and, if anything, they were rejoicing, or the next thing furthest away from sorrow.

He crammed some socks, his trainers, and various other clothing articles into his cauldron, which, in turn, he shoved into his trunk.

He suddenly wondered if Hermione and Ron would be there too and, the more that he thought about it, he didn't see why they wouldn't be. Maybe Hermione could help him with the Time Turner. Then came the trouble of after he had persuaded Sirius to not go. It would be days; weeks even, until the present time came round again. Should he use the Time Turner to go into the future or did he have to wait for present time to roll round again so that nothing he had done would disappear?

Angrily he finished packing by slamming his pouch of money onto _1 000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_, as if both book and gold had done him great personal wrong.

He looked at his helter-skelter belongings inside of the trunk and he knew that he had forgotten something. He looked around his room. He didn't see anything. He dived under his bed to pry up the loose floorboard. And there it was. His father's invisibility cloak lay there in all of its silvery glory. It would definitely come in handy for avoiding people's gaze.

_Ding-dong._

Harry froze as he heard the doorbell ring because he hadn't mentioned to the Dursley's that he was going away. Actually, he hadn't really expected a member from the Order to go right up to the front door. He didn't really know what he had expected, but he supposed that he had thought that they would do another fake lawn competition sort of thing.

"Good morning," a cheerful voice carried up the stairs, that Harry recognized as Lupin's. "I've come to collect Harry."

"Oh you have, have you?" Harry heard Uncle Vernon asking, suspiciously. "And just what are you picking him up for?"

"Why, I thought that that was obvious, or perhaps Harry didn't fill you in?"

Harry could imagine Uncle Vernon glancing at the stairway, his temples throbbing.

"Too right he didn't."

"Well, I've come to take him away from your house for the rest of the summer."

By the silence met by this comment, Harry assumed that his uncle couldn't come up with a retort, being torn between joy that Harry would be leaving and resentment that his personal time in which he could make Harry's life miserable was being taken away.

Harry thought this to be the ideal time to intervene, so he lugged his case down the stairs and over towards the front door. He wearily eyed Vernon Dursley's sausage-like purple hands and he decided that he was in a safe zone from them and Uncle Vernon wouldn't dare to throttle him in front of a wizard.

"Nice to see you, Harry," Lupin exclaimed.

"Nice to see you too, Professor."

"All ready to go?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hold on a minute!" Vernon nearly shouted, obviously not taking kindly to being ignored in this fashion.

Lupin eyed Vernon with an expression similar to Harry's and he looked at Harry, giving a slight nod.

"G' bye!" Harry said, before slamming the door in his uncle's face. He didn't want to imagine the spluttering purple face of his uncle. Maybe Uncle Vernon would even tear out great tufts of his moustache, like he had when a persevering sender was mailing scores of letters to Harry, by the day.

"Well then, Harry, I hope that you've been well since what happened at the Ministry," Lupin said, delicately.

"Not really, but yeah." Harry felt reluctant to speak about Sirius. It was one thing to write about it on parchment but it was another entirely to actually talk about it. He expected Lupin to raise his eyebrows at this. Instead:

"I've felt pretty much the same way," Lupin muttered, with a small sigh. "But we probably shouldn't linger on that subject because we ought to focus on getting to our destination."

Harry felt relieved. For whatever odd reason, he had almost feared that Lupin would break down at the talk of Sirius, much like how Cho Chang had about Cedric. He just nodded.

"Ah, here we are," Lupin exclaimed, pausing before a run-down old vehicle.

Harry looked at it in admiration; he was surprised that the people of Privet Drive hadn't destroyed it or moved it away, as they all had perfectly green lawns with sparkling clean and _new _cars.

Harry followed Lupin into the vehicle, suddenly wondering if it could last the drive as it let out a moan as it started up, and he was instantly reminded of The Knight Bus. With a bang it had left behind Privet Drive and they were on a completely different street that Harry didn't recognize. In what must have been five-or-less minutes time they were on the same street as 12 Grimauld place.

Jarred, Harry exited the vehicle, definitely not wanting another go. Thankfully, Lupin had better driving skills than Ernie, resulting in Harry's less upset stomach. He and Lupin stood before the gap between 11 and 13.

Harry thought hard of the name he had memorized from the piece of parchment, the previous year, and, as if by magic--which it was, a house erupted in the space that had once been empty.

Harry felt elated because, at last, he was at Number 12 Grimauld place and it would only be a matter of time before Sirius was back. He laughed inwardly at the thought of time because the Time Turner was still safely with him and he could change time at whim now.

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I hope that you liked that! Now, review, review! I won't set a minimum review thing because I just write these things when I feel like it, when I'm inspired, or just when I get a helluva good idea, pardon my "modesty." But I would appreciate it if you could review and if you could read and review the links that I have above! Thanks!

--BloodyPenhand


	5. Arrival

Lupin looked satisfied as the house came into existence to them, but he had a sudden look of age that greater defined the lines in his face, as if the mere appearance of this place were enough to make him depressed. He and Harry made their way towards the front door but Lupin paused before entering.

"Is everything all right, Professor?" Harry asked, uncertainly. Lupin may not still be his Professor, but it was a title that had stuck from his third year at Hogwarts.

"I suppose so… No matter, no matter," Lupin said, not making much sense at all. "Yes… Dead, dying, all the same… No matter, no matter…"

Harry eyed Lupin in apprehension. Had the fall of Sirius affected Lupin's mind so drastically? _Naw; he wouldn't have been allowed to come for me if he were mental… Would he?_

"Er, Professor Lupin," Harry tried, louder this time, "perhaps we should go in?" He was saying it all into Lupin's ear as if he were deaf because the werewolf wasn't responding.

Lupin physically started, looking at Harry. He seemed to remember something, so he opened the door, motioning for Harry to enter.

Harry clearly remembered the portrait of Sirius's mother, including how she would howl about filth inside her father's house, so he was as quiet as possible as he entered.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley whispered. "So good that you're finally here. Ron and Hermione are upstairs in the same room as before."

Harry nodded, taking this as a sign to leave the room. He tiptoed over to the staircase, making his way up as quietly as possible, partly so as to not wake up the portrait, and partly in hopes of over-hearing Mrs. Weasley's conversation with Lupin. It worked. He half smiled to himself… perhaps this would be some indicator to what was going on.

"Are you all right, Remus?" Mrs. Weasley was asking.

"Hmm… No matter, no matter," he responded vaguely. He gave Harry the odd impression that he couldn't fully hear what Mrs. Weasley was saying, that or he was blocking her out, purposely. But hadn't he just been fine when he was picking Harry up?

"Remus, snap out of it!" She said it in a loud whisper, just loud enough so that the curtains over Sirius's mother's portrait ruffled themselves, as if to be torn apart to expose the gruesome painting. "What's wrong?" She asked it in a slightly gentler tone.

Harry paused on the steps, interested in this conversation.

"I will kill him with my bare hands, if I have to." He said it so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears in order to hear it properly.

"Who?" Mrs. Weasley was startled at hearing the usually tame Lupin making death threats.

Remus wouldn't say, and he just left to another part of the house, the words he mumbled un-heard by Harry and, by the looks of it, Mrs. Weasley as well.

Molly shook her head in confusion; the death of Sirius hadn't done anything good, in her opinion. She glanced up the staircase, giving Harry a sharp look for lingering, causing him to triple his speed up the stairs. Harry was just glad that he was Harry because Mrs. Weasley seldom, if ever, got truly angry with him.

Soon enough, he found the room with Ron and Hermione. He walked in, to be bombarded by a human with bushy brown hair emitting squealing noises of joy. Ron controlled himself far better than Hermione and he stood back for a moment.

"Glad you're back, mate!" was all that Ron really said, as it was all that could be heard over Hermione.

Hermione stepped back. "You haven't done anything yet, have you?" She asked it anxiously.

Harry just shook his head. He glanced over at Ron, wondering whether or not he knew.

"Yeah, I know," Ron verified, as if reading Harry's mind.

To change the subject Harry quickly asked, "What's wrong with Lupin? He's acting kind of… odd."

His friends' faces darkened.

"Well, mate, we think that he just cracked after what happened to Sirius." Ron looked thoughtful. "It's kind of like what Peeves said before Lupin shoved that gum up his nose: _Loony, Loopy Lupin._"

Hermione frowned at Ron's assessment. "He hasn't _cracked, _Ron. He's just experiencing an emotional traumatic experience, is all, and he's not exactly comprehensible at times. But, other than that, he's just fine."

"Yeah, so what I said, he's cracked," Ron replied.

"He is _not _cracked, Ron!"

"Your definition suggests that _you _are."

"And what do you mean by that?" Hermione's eyes were flaring, daring Ron to answer.

"No one understands _alien_, Hermione, and obviously you speak it. What the heck do you mean by _'experiencing an emotional traumatic experience,'_ anyways?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "He's suffering with coming to terms that Sirius is really gone. It must be hard, to have outlived all of your friends when you aren't particularly old, now mustn't it?"

"I guess," Ron admitted. "But you could have just said that."

"I did say that."

"Not like that, you didn't."

It seemed as if they had forgotten Harry, so he stepped in. "He seemed just fine when he was picking me up but then he started to go a little creepy at the doorstep. He kept on saying _No matter, no matter…_"

Hermione seemed intrigued. "Really? He was acting just fine when he was picking you up?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting… It could be that he's only effected by this house and other places that have a strong memory of Sirius," Hermione explained excitedly.

"He was also saying _I'll kill him with my bare hands, if I have to_," Harry remembered. "But he said that to your mum," he nodded to Ron, "when he was saying it."

"Weird," Ron said.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Oh dear… This can mean only one thing…"

"Would you mind to just explain, instead of making us guess?" Ron asked with mock politeness.

Hermione scowled at him. "He must be planning on going after Peter Pettigrew, isn't it obvious? He was responsible for everyone."

Harry nodded slowly, understanding suddenly coming. "Yeah… Now there's just him and he wants to get rid of Peter for revenge, or something, right?"

Hermione nodded gravely. "That wouldn't be a very good idea," she said.

"Well, he _is _just a rat that cares only about himself," Ron pointed out.

"But that's no reason to just become a murderer. That's sinking down to _his _level," Harry explained.

"Harry, don't you realize the other important thing about this?" Hermione asked, eyes widened at how Harry could possibly forget.

"What?"

"He owes his life to _you_. That could come in handy some day, perhaps against Voldemort!" She said the name with a small grind of her teeth, but she had come to accept that she would have to use it. "After all, there might be some point when you're facing Voldemort when only he can help you. I mean, he _is _his most faithful servant," Hermione elaborated.

"Oh, yeah." Harry had, in truth, forgotten all about that. He didn't want any kind of connection like that to the man who sold out his parents to Voldemort; much less thank him for saving him and the wizarding world.

"Harry," Ron interjected, "when do you plan on doing," he looked towards the door, "_it?_"

"I'm thinking that I might not be able to until this whole thing with Lupin is resolved," Harry said.

"I think that you should go anyways," Hermione disagreed.

"Why?" Ron asked along with Harry.

"Because Harry needs to get this out of his system," Hermione said simply. "I would even go as far as to suggest tonight."

Harry gaped for a moment but he realized what she was saying. It was true that he could become an anathema to them, if he did not vent this out. He shuddered as he realized what a state he would probably go into if he constantly believed that Sirius was still out there, torn between not knowing if he were dead or not. He didn't like to picture it.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry admitted. He suddenly felt the weight of the Time Turner around his neck and the full reason for why he was going to do this in only a matter of hours.


	6. Lupin

It was only a short matter of time before Mrs. Weasley came up to the room containing Harry, Ron, and Hermione, calling them down for supper.

"Yeah, right," Ron said to his mother, who then went back downstairs again.

Harry remembered dinners at the Headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix to be rather interesting, as it was a, usually, civil gathering of people who had interesting jobs in order to over-throw Voldemort… Or at least try. "What members of the Order are in?" Harry asked.

"Well, not much, actually," was Hermione's response.

"What are you talking about?" Ron said, bewildered. "There's Lupin… There's Lupin… And for all we know there's even a _third _side to… Lupin."

Harry snorted, finding this somewhat amusing, but Hermione's face was stern.

"Don't make fun of him like that, Ron. This is a really hard time for him…" She looked uncertainly towards Harry. "…And for Harry."

"Yeah, but you don't see _him _acting like a nutter," Ron pointed out.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Yes but Harry has _hope _to cling to. He doesn't think that Sirius is gone _and _he's got the Time Turner to try to bring him back again. The difference between both of them is _hope_."

"Yeah, back to the Time Turner. Why didn't you let me use it when I asked but now you're letting him use it, first ask?"

"You just wanted to go back in time to kick Snape from behind in Potions!" Hermione snapped. "Hardly a fit reason for manipulating time. _Honestly…_"

"That's not true," Ron flared up, "I also wanted to hand in my work so to avoid detention!" Obviously, to him, this was a worthy effort of going back in time and Hermione most certainly should have agreed, considering her near spotless record.

Hermione was about to retort when Harry said, rather loudly, "Why don't we go down for supper?"

Ron's growling stomach was answer enough and Harry felt slightly proud at having saved them from a third World War of Ron and Hermione.

They went downstairs, tiptoed past the veiled portrait, and they entered the kitchen, quite starving. Seeing as the only people at the table seemed to be Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and themselves, Mrs. Weasley had made a smaller portion of tomato soup. She ladled the steaming liquid into bowls for them all before sitting down herself.

"You look as thin as a pin, Harry," she commented in a motherly way. "When you're done that, there's more in the pot."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.

Other than that, conversation was limited. Everyone busied themselves with eating; Mrs. Weasley still seemed somewhat shaken by Lupin's earlier comment, and Ron and Hermione were still somewhat cool after their most recent of their frequent "small disagreements." As for Harry, he was preparing himself for his trip back in time. It wasn't a surprise that when everyone was done all that they did was quickly clean their bowls before rushing off to where they had previously been, so as to ignore awkwardness.

However, Harry split up from Ron and Hermione in the entrance hall to go upstairs to begin his trek through time. Ron and Hermione still had to sort out what was wrong with Lupin first hand, instead of just analysing the situation from afar. Besides, they had told Harry that they would deal with it.

"Only major problem _now _is finding Lupin." Ron snorted at his own assessment. Either the things that they were doing were becoming more stupid, or he had begun to assess situations a lot lighter. Or both.

Hermione nodded, before leading the way back towards the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was still inside.

"What was the point in even _leaving_ if you're coming back?" she snapped. Apparently she wasn't in the best of moods. The pair scrambled back out the door, before they could do further to anger her.

"Okay, so we'll find him some other way," Hermione said, almost huffily. If there was one thing that she liked even less than getting a question wrong on a test, it was someone hindering her in her efforts to do something. Grumbling, she led the way again. A few doors later, they came upon him.

"Er, Professor," Ron began, using Lupin's previous title in their third year, "what're you doing?" It was a perfectly reasonable question, as Lupin was muttering to himself while looking into a fire.

Hermione noticed whose portrait it was that hung above the fireplace, though how it had gotten there she had no clue, as most assuredly Sirius nor his family would have done it. "Professor," Hermione tried louder than Ron, as he had not responded to Ron.

He jerked. "Huh? What?" He looked around, seemingly confused.

Ron was about to blurt out, _What the hell is wrong with you? _But Hermione stopped him with a glance, somehow feeling that she had made some progress. _Yeah, some progress,_ thought Ron. _He twitched. Amazing._

"I think that I know why you're like this," Hermione stated simply, hoping that Lupin would respond somehow.

Lupin seemed to disagree because he snorted in amusement. "You _are _the smartest witch in your year, Hermione, but even I don't fully understand what's going on…" He seemed vague.

"Look, Lupin," Ron burst out, not using the normal title for the werewolf, "she _is _the smartest witch in our year _and _she's trying to use those smarts to help _you._ I don't know if you've looked in the mirror lately, or anything, but you're not exactly well." Ron took in the seemingly aged appearance of Lupin. As he had said, he looked not well at all. "And you'll cut out _now,_ this whole _stupid _behaviour of yours where you're all sorry about what happened." He took a steadying breath, not exactly knowing why he had had such an outburst.

Hermione seemed more affected by his small speech than Lupin, but just for a moment. A look of dawning seemed to have come over the remaining Marauder.

Disgusted in himself, Remus clawed at his own skin, as if hoping to push off some sticky residue or an unpleasant filth. He struggled like that for a moment before he righted himself in the chair, close enough to satisfied. "You're right, Ron, you're right," he said quietly.

Ron's jaw dropped, having expected to be reprimanded or something. But, then again, Lupin had always been the understanding sort, except for when he was werewolf. But he couldn't help that, so Ron didn't hold the transformation against him.

Lupin looked scathingly around, as if it some evil spectre. "It's this house. It's grabbed a hold of me. It had such evil inhabitants and this house has bared so much grief, I suppose that somehow I took that on. Thank you for your… resurrecting speech. Sirius, James and Lily are, if anything disgusted by my display. Though I still fully intend on killing that _pathetic _rat, I feel more myself now. My identities have returned to the number two, thanks." At their non-plused expressions Remus added, "Remus Lupin, once Marauder, and a werewolf."

Hermione seemed quite satisfied by this revelation, so she left the room, getting one last glance of Sirius Black's portrait above the fireplace.

Sensing something amiss all of a sudden, Lupin asked, "Where's Harry?"

"Erm…" Ron looked back at the door, hoping somehow for Hermione's miraculous return to explain everything. Alas, that never happened. "He's… busy…"

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

Feeling detention coming on Ron plunged on, "He's using Hermione's Time Turner from our third year to try and get back Sirius." With that confession out, he followed, with much haste, Hermione's path of exiting. _Sorry 'bout telling, mate, but I had to do it to avoid detention_, Ron thought miserably. He was about to go up the stairs when he paused. _What the hell? He can't give me detention! He's not even a teacher anymore _and _it's summer!_

"Damn!" Ron said, in quite over a whisper. It was enough to send the portrait of Sirius's hideous mother off and, now knowing that he would have to deal with his own mother, Ron scrambled, full speed, up the stairs to avoid head severing.

And, sure enough:

"Ronald Weasley!" Ron, even nearly up the staircase, could hear his mother's yell. It even drowned out the portrait, and that was saying something.

"Uh oh," Ron muttered before he shielded himself behind a door, hoping that it would stand the impending blast.


	7. A Sirius Yet Comforting End

Harry had walked back into the room they'd all previously been in by now, but he still hadn't done anything. He stood on the floor, looking at the Time Turner, with his father's invisibility cloak in his hand. _Should I really be doing this? _Harry wondered. For a moment his determination wavered, the cloak nearly dropped to the floor, and the Time Turner was nearly ripped off of his neck.

But only for a moment did his determination waver. He felt the interesting texture of the invisibility cloak, and he clutched it harder, remembering Sirius. Almost recklessly now, Harry began to turn the tiny hourglass.

_One._ He turned it again.

_Two. _Again he turned it.

_Three. _He continued turning it, never losing track of how many hours he was passing by, never losing focus on how far back he needed to go.

_Four…_

Finally, he had a churning feeling in his stomach and he could almost see the hours whipping by. Then, after what seemed so long, everything stopped, and he nearly fell to the floor in unstableness. He just stood there, dazed for a moment, before he remembered what he had done and he whipped the invisibility cloak over himself.

He could hear a bunch of footsteps pounding for the front door, as if in a rush for something. _Oh, of course. They're probably heading for the Ministry because they've heard from Snape… I wonder if I have time to see Kreacher…? _He shook his head violently, ridding himself of the thought. He entered the hallway, deciding to go to Sirius's room to find him. _Hope he's still here…_

Harry felt it was a good omen when he found Sirius's door open and he could still hear someone inside, besides Buckbeak. _Omens? Sheesh, what am I thinking? I'm no Trelawny… _Harry tiptoed in.

But Harry had forgotten that Sirius had been a Marauder once and he had used the very cloak that he was under more than once, and Sirius obviously could tell when someone invisible was near-by. He stood up sharply, looking directly at Harry, though he couldn't see him.

"Who's there?" he asked gruffly.

Harry, figuring that it was safe, pulled off the cloak. Sirius's look of utter surprise caused his face to pull itself into a grin. But the grin was short lived, as Harry clearly remembered why he was even here… when… whatever… in the first place.

"Harry? I thought that you were at the Ministry!" Sirius croaked.

"Well, I probably am by now."

Sirius looked confused, but then, looking at Buckbeak, he understood. "Hermione still has that Time Turner, then?"

Harry nodded. There was a lump in his throat that was making it difficult for him to speak. It had been so long since he had seen Sirius… It had been this very day, actually.

"You can't go, though," Harry abruptly demanded.

Sirius looked taken aback for a moment. "And why ever not?"

"Because you'll… you'll… d-die, if you do! You _can't _go!" Harry had trouble admitting that his Godfather would die, but he had managed it, if only barely. After a deep breath, he described the veil before saying again, "You _can't _go."

Sirius smiled at Harry's plea.

"You can't stop me from going, Harry," he said lightly. "I have to go, if only to protect you… now."

How could Sirius not realize the seriousness of this situation? "Other members of the Order will be there," Harry said, stubbornly. "A-and if you go now, then what about the future?" He could feel the lump in his throat rising. He was desperately determined not to cry, but it was one of the many battles that he was losing.

"Ah," Sirius gave him a grim grin. "I believe that everything happens for a reason." _Ever since I got convicted, at any rate, _he added silently to himself.

"What about the reason that I'm here now, then?" Harry demanded. He looked away from Sirius, not being able to bear to look at him. He didn't want Sirius to see how weak he was, with tears in his eyes.

Sirius slowly shook his head before putting a hand on Harry's chin to force him to look into his eyes.

"Can you think of any time at the Ministry where I saved you?" Sirius asked.

Harry wanted to say no, just to make Sirius not go. A tear fell down his cheek and his voice cracked as he responded, "Yes." He clearly remembered Sirius ramming Dolohov when he was about to take the prophecy from Harry. If Dolohov had succeeded, if Sirius hadn't have come, then everything would have been over right then and there because the prophecy would have been taken directly to Voldemort.

"Exactly," Sirius whispered.

Harry hated the fact that it would only be a few more minutes before he was likely blubbering. He couldn't control the irresistible need to cry.

"S-so I w-won't be s-seeing you again?" Harry asked, fearfully. He already knew what that was like.

"Ah," Sirius said in an elusive voice, "That all depends on where the veil goes."

Harry had the feeling that Sirius knew perfectly well what would happen.

"Bye then, I guess," Harry said, defeated. A few more tears leaked from his eyes.

Sirius let a small smile come over his face. He gruffly pulled Harry closer, closing in on a bear-like hug but seemingly before the moment even came, Sirius was pulling back again and leaving.

"Harry, you really are just like Prongs—I mean, your father. You'll be fine." He turned his back again and he continued to walk away until he had reached the doorway. "Oh, and Harry," he looked meaningfully at Harry, "take down Bellatrix for me, and Voldemort. I still haven't forgiven either."

Then he was gone to join the rest of the Order to defend the Harry of this time period.

But Harry could have sworn that he had seen that old playful look in his Godfather's eyes and, despite how much he knew that he would always miss him, he fingered the Time Turner and he returned to his time.

As the sands of time shifted back to normal, Harry was left with a few last desperate thoughts. Though Sirius seemed wise beyond his years he didn't really want to leave, even if it _was_ what Sirius had wanted. Maybe he knew something that Harry didn't…? Harry heaved a great sigh as his travel through time slowed.

He would never forget Sirius but, though he doubted either had ever said it, they had been really close and Harry _would_ get through this alive. As for Voldemort and Bellatrix…? They didn't stand a chance.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, happily. "Good to see you back, mate!" He looked around. "But where's Sirius?"

Harry noticed the Lupin was also in the room. "He'll always be with us," Harry said with confidence. "It's kind of like what Dumbledore said in our second year… He'll never really be gone until those who are loyal have forgotten." Harry gave them all a small, painful smile.

Hermione nodded in approval, beaming.

Harry grinned back, feeling a great weight being lifted from his spirit. "Any one up for a game of exploding snap…?"


End file.
